


Origin Story

by Kadorienne



Category: Watchmen - All Media Types
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Centaurs, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-18
Updated: 2013-12-18
Packaged: 2018-01-05 00:42:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1087549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kadorienne/pseuds/Kadorienne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rorschach is a centaur. Dan thinks that's awesome.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Origin Story

Rorschach glared at the ceiling in Daniel's bedroom. It was a ceiling he never should have laid eyes on.

They'd been lovers for months now, and Rorschach still couldn't forgive himself. He never should have given in to his body's depraved desires. Never should have defiled a good man like Daniel that way. Never mind that Daniel wanted to be defiled, that was no excuse. Daniel kept saying it wasn't wrong, but Daniel was a kind man, always ready to see the good in everyone, even the criminal scum they hunted every night, even for degenerate perverts like Rorschach. 

But at least Daniel hadn't found out the other thing that was wrong with him.

Daniel laid one of his large, clever hands on Rorschach's arm. “I can tell what you're thinking, buddy.”

“Thought you were asleep.”

“I can't sleep when you're thinking at the top of your lungs.”

He could tell Daniel was going to try again to convince him that what they were doing was all right. He sat up and leaned out of the bed for his clothes. “Should go.”

“I wish you would stay,” Daniel said quietly. Rorschach almost never did. “We don't have to talk about it right now if you don't want to.”

But Rorschach was already out of bed, pulling his face and his clothes back on. Daniel sighed, but didn't argue. He wasn't arguing as much lately. Probably trying to devise new ways of changing Rorschach's mind about things.

On his way home, Rorschach happened upon a pre-dawn robbery in progress. Putting a stop to it took his mind off his shame for a while, but also meant that he had no time for sleep before going to work. Just as well; forcing himself to stay awake took all his concentration, so he didn't have to think unclean lustful thoughts. 

It was about midmorning that Walter had to leave his machine to take a customer's measurements. 

The moment the man walked into the tailor shop, Walter was sure the man had a secret. An important one. People with big secrets had a subtle caution in their manner. Rorschach had seen that faint wariness in masks wearing their civilian clothes, and in criminals who wore respectable facades. Rorschach would have to investigate the man, see if he was one of the latter.

“I need shirts with vents in the backs, like jackets have,” the man was explaining. Walter wondered why, but it wasn't his job to question. He motioned for the man to raise his arms so he could put the tape measure around his ribcage.

“I had a lot of shirts made last year, but I've lost some weight since becoming a vegetarian,” the customer said, smug. Walter's mouth twisted. With luck the customer would assume it was an expression of concentration. Not that Walter cared, but having to find another job would waste time and energy better spent on being Rorschach. Vegetarianism was a notoriously liberal fad, and the man had longish hair. It was more than probable that this man was one of those corrupt spoiled intellectuals who were eating away at America's moral fiber with false ideals more suited to puffing up his own vanity than actually helping ordinary Americans struggling to make ends meet and keep their families safe.

Abruptly the customer's expression became intent. He breathed in deeply, then looked at Walter, really _seeing_ him now. Walter held his gaze, suspicious.

The customer smiled slightly. “I don't suppose you know of anywhere around here where a vegetarian could, ah, tie on the old feed bag?” 

Walter took a small step back, trying to figure out what the man was up to. Possibly homosexual? Trying to proposition him? “Don't know of any.” That was a lie, the Gunga Diner around the corner had plenty of meatless dishes and so did the Chinese place a block farther that Daniel liked, but he wasn't going to give the slimeball any encouragement.

The man clearly knew he had failed, but it didn't stop him from trying again. “What's your favorite sport?”

“Boxing,” Walter answered automatically before thinking to snap that it was none of the man's business. Well, boxing was a good answer anyway. Implied a punch in the nose.

The man's smile widened. “That's funny. I would have guessed it was... horseback riding.”

Walter's blood turned to ice. Now he understood. That explained the shirt flaps.

“Are you done with the measurements?” the customer asked lightly. Walter looked at his clipboard blankly.

“Erm. Yes.”

“Then I'll see you in – will a week be enough?”

Walter forced his brain to resume functioning. “Erm. Should be”

The man left, glancing back at Walter like they shared a secret. Well, they did.

 

“We're being invaded,” were Rorschach's first words when he reached the Owl's Nest that night. 

“By whom?”

Rorschach tried to think of where to begin. “Father fought in Korea,” he said at last. “Was conceived on leave.”

“Yes?” Daniel was all patient attention.

“Think he must have been prisoner there. Scientific experiments by communists.”

The compassion on Daniel's face was heartening. “What makes you think that?”

“Think it's part of their long range plans. Create abominations, use them to infiltrate.”

“...Abominations? Rorschach, just what are you talking about?”

“Hoped the experiments were in the early stages, but met another one today.”

“Another _what?”_

“Centaur. Product of Soviet experiments, must be. No other explanation. Met one today.” Rorschach's mouth twisted again, though of course Daniel couldn't see it through the mask. “Thought I was one of them. In on their conspiracy.”

Daniel was just staring at him. “Rorschach, I think you'd better take your mask off. We need to discuss this face to face.”

Dan was wrong about that, but it was important that he really listen. Rorschach took off his face to accommodate him. Daniel studied him for a moment, then put his hands on Rorschach's shoulders and spoke seriously.

“You trust me, don't you, Rorschach?”

“Stupid question. Showed face. Told name. Engaged in perversions.”

“Then will you trust me when I tell you that you need help? I won't let anything bad happen to you, buddy, you know that, but you've finally – don't go! Listen to me!”

“Not going anywhere, Daniel.” Walter had only taken one step back, so he could show Dan. He thought about shifting form, and a second later, he had.

He shuddered at Dan's stare. Bad enough Daniel knew that he was a pervert. He hadn't ever wanted him to know that he was also a centaur. A freak.

The back of his coat fell open over his hindquarters. His shirt was crumpled around his waist uncomfortably, because he hadn't bothered to sew himself one with back flaps.

Dan stared for a long time. Then, to Rorschach's surprise, his mouth spread in a wondering smile. It was the way he smiled bending over his workbench when he found the solution to a thorny problem, or the way he had once smiled when they had raided a burglar's hideout and found an exquisite painting by an old master. 

Dan raised his hand as if involuntarily before checking himself. “May I?” he asked. Rorschach would rather not have Dan touch the proof of his abnormality, but the yearning in Dan's eyes was too much. He gave a short affirmative jerk of his head.

Dan's hand was warm on his back – his horse back. The slow stroke felt more pleasant than Rorschach would have imagined. His hind legs shifted restlessly, an automatic reaction over which he had little control.

“It's real,” Dan breathed. He met Walter's gaze, that light of wonder still in his eyes. “Why did you think this was a bad thing? It's wonderful! You're a walking legend! You're... you're magic!”

Rorschach's hooves shifted his weight again. “Doubt that.”

Dan's hand was exploring the juncture between Rorschach's horse and human halves. “I wonder why your horse part is white and black, instead of red like your hair. Can you choose what your horse half looks like?”

Rorschach snorted. “No. Don't know why it's like that.”

“It matches your mask! Is that why you liked that fabric?”

He looked at his own piebald hindquarters with sudden consternation. “Never thought about it.”

“You have to tell me all about this! Everything!”

Rorschach had forgotten his partner's fascination with mythology. Of course he would like the idea, at least at first.

Resigned, he told the entire story. How during puberty he had discovered his own freakishness. All he had to do to transform was think about it. He couldn't transform into anything else, and he didn't seem to have any kind of powers, unless one counted the faster speed his horse legs could run. Long ago he had read what he could find about centaurs at the library, but aside from a few Greek myths and random appearances in fantasy novels, there was nothing.

“And you don't know any other centaurs?” Dan asked. “That's terrible! Were your parents centaurs?”

Rorschach had never told Daniel those details about his childhood. He spoke in a tone that he hoped Daniel would understand to mean that the subject wasn't open to further discussion. “Mother never said anything. Died before I found out. Never knew my father. Think he died when he went back to Korea.”

“I'm sorry,” Daniel said gently. 

Walter tried not to show how the words affected him. If only more people were like Daniel, kind and generous as well as brave and loyal. 

“So you don't know why you're a centaur?” A grin spread over Dan's face at the last word, like he still couldn't believe he was looking at a real live myth. 

“Have theory.”

“Yes?”

“Father was in Korea,” Rorschach repeated. “Could have been taken prisoner, experimented on. Escaped, came home on leave, bequeathed abnormality to me.”

“What use would communists have for centaurs?”

“Soldiers. Think of difference between infantry and cavalry. Centaurs larger, faster than humans. Invasion has started, Daniel. Met advance scout today.”

Daniel studied Rorschach's horse half again, thoughtful. “I don't know,” he said slowly. “It seems kind of farfetched. There are much simpler ways they could try to create supersoldiers, and with the technology to make someone change form so drastically, why wouldn't they do something scarier? Turn soldiers into dragons, say?”

“Have better idea?” 

Rorschach's voice had been sarcastic, but Dan did. “Maybe centaurs have been real ever since the days of ancient Greece. Maybe other things are real too. In a world where Dr. Manhattan can exist, why not?” Dan struck his palm with a fist. “That's it! We need to go to Dr. Manhattan, see what he can tell us about you!”

It seemed like a sensible idea, but Rorschach growled, “Have his phone number?”

“No, but I have Hollis Mason's. And he has the first Silk Spectre's, and I'm pretty sure she has her daughter's phone number, and-”

“And daughter is Manhattan's whore.” Dan looked horrified at the word, and Rorschach felt uncharaceristically chastened. “Am no better. At least she isn't a pervert. Like me.”

Dan looked exasperated. “And me. Being with someone she loves, who loves her, doesn't make her a whore. When will you get that through your head? Can you refrain from insulting her while we consult her boyfriend about your secret power?”

Rorschach reminded himself that the second Silk Spectre was a mask too, that whatever her flaws she was fighting evil. And that he himself was no longer in a position to judge. “Yes.”

“Good.” Dan looked at the clock, then reached for the phone. Rorschach, still in centaur form, had to lean over to grab Dan's wrist. It was different, being the one looking down at Dan. 

“Don't tell Hollis. Don't tell anyone who doesn't need to know.”

Dan looked at him sadly. “I promise, buddy.” Rorschach freed his wrist and he started to dial.

 

The next night Dan was able to happily report that Dr. Manhattan would meet them in the Owl's Nest that very night. “Shouldn't have given address, Daniel,” Rorschach said, alarmed.

“Do you really think someone with Dr. Manhattan's powers can't detect our identities? He can probably sense all our molecules or something.”

“What did you tell him?”

“Just that we had something important to ask him about. He didn't insist on being told, guess he trusts a fellow mask to know when something really is important.” Daniel indicated a sheaf of papers on his workbench. “I did some research on centaurs today. In mythology books, I mean. That's everything I was able to find, if you want to read it. Not much, I'm afraid, and it doesn't seem to be very relevant to you. The ancient Greeks didn't know centaurs could take human form.”

“Don't think theirs were real.”

Whatever reply Daniel would have made was forestalled by the sudden appearance of Dr. Manhattan. Both men automatically turned their heads away from the blinding flash of light. Rorschach kept his face averted, wishing that someone could talk Dr. Manhattan into wearing clothes even if he didn't really need them. 

The blue man just waited, serene as a Buddha, until Dan spoke. “Thank you for coming, Dr. Manhattan, we really- okay. I should just get to the point, right? We hoped you could tell us about... show him, Rorschach.”

The unearthly eyes turned to Rorschach. His stomach knotted, Rorschach transformed.

“Interesting,” Dr. Manhattan said. He didn't sound interested, but Rorschach knew him well enough from their few brief encounters to understand that this apparent imperturbability was simply his way. “Will you transform back?”

Rorschach complied. Dan blurted, “Why do his pants disappear too? Why don't they get ripped to shreds?”

“Rorschach's lower half resides in what you would probably call an alternate universe when he is transformed. Any clothes he is wearing go there too.”

“So there's a universe with a bunch of disembodied legs and headless horses?”

“In a sense. Your human perceptions would not be able to make sense of the alternate universe.”

“Thought I was experiment,” Rorschach spoke up. “Am I?”

“Transform, please.” Rorschach did, and Dr. Manhattan placed a hand on his flank. Rorschach didn't care much for being touched, except by Daniel, but he understood that Manhattan was doing this in the spirit of science. Rorschach had sometimes wondered why Manhattan felt the need to physically touch things, or raise his hand to manipulate matter without touching it, but he didn't understand the physics of what Dr. Manhattan was nearly well enough to make a good guess.

After a moment of contemplation, Dr. Manhattan said, “The molecular structure of your DNA is consistent with normal evolutionary patterns, not genetic engineering.”

“And this is... natural? Not magical?” Daniel sounded disappointed. He would.

“One could define magic as technology advanced beyond current knowledge,” Dr. Manhattan replied. “If magic exists, or souls, or God, they will all obey the laws of science. Even if we do not yet understand the applicable laws.”

“Thank you,” Daniel said, since Rorschach obviously wasn't going to.

“I should thank you. This is the most intriguing phenomenon I have encountered in some time.”

“Don't tell any-” Rorschach began, but Manhattan was already gone in another blinding flash.

The two men looked at each other. “Now what?” asked Dan.

“Patrol,” said Rorschach. So they did.

 

Rorschach cut off Daniel's attempts at further discussion of the matter. He needed to think things over. If he wasn't a Soviet experiment, that meant the centaur he had met was just a garden variety liberal. He didn't relish the idea of talking to the man, but he needed to find out more about his own kind. When the man came back for his specially tailored shirts, Rorschach would grit his teeth and suggest they share a vegetarian meal.

But Daniel was ahead of him. Rorschach would only admit it to himself, and then grudgingly, but this was why Daniel was such a valuable partner. Rorschach was too used to not being able to ask anyone for help to have ever thought of requesting a chain of favors to consult Dr. Manhattan about his... condition. Daniel assumed that other people would be as generous as he was, and in this case at least, he had been right. Rorschach had to spend his days making a living, but Daniel not only had time for side investigations, he also had Archie.

The day after Manhattan's visit, Daniel wasn't in the Owl's Nest, nor was Archie. There was a note next to two cans of beans and a glass bottle of Coke: “There's something I need to look into tonight. Hope to see you tomorrow. D.” Rorschach consumed the beans and Coke and then patrolled alone, disappointed.

The following night made up for it, however. When Rorschach arrived, Dan was in costume except for the mask and was grinning ear to ear. Rorschach, masked, just waited for Dan to share whatever it was.

Dan knew better than to wait for Rorschach to give in and ask. “So, if you're looking for centaurs, the logical place to start is in places where there are horses, right?”

“Nnk.”

“Right! So I just got out the phone book and looked up all the stables and riding academies in the area. They're all on the outskirts of the city, of course. I thought I would have to check out every one of them, but as it turned out, they made it easy.”

Dan pointed to the open phone book. An entry was circled in red. Rorschach looked at it.

“Chiron Ranch! Chiron was the centaur who raised Heracles!”

“Could be coincidence. Horse lovers might like idea of centaurs.”

“Which is why I used Archie to spy on them. Night vision, all that. There were only a few of them moving around at night, I guess centaurs aren't really nocturnal, but they're centaurs!” Dan gleefully held up a few photos. They looked kind of like negatives, the way night vision photos did, but they definitely showed centaurs.

“So what do you say, buddy? Do we go there tomorrow?” Dan caught himself. “Or, on Saturday?”

“Saturday.”

After patrol, Dan asked Rorschach to stay, and he did.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure when this will be finished. Unfortunately, I don't remember what was going to happen next, but my beta reader Grey Bard encouraged me to post it.
> 
> Centaurfic is a small but existing fanfic genre. It originated in the _Houston Knights_ fandom with [Horses of Different Colors](http://gila.faking-sanity.net/horses.html) and spread from there, though not very widely.


End file.
